Spirit lifting food and freecycling

Times like this, the world around us in turmoil, it's more important than ever to practice self care, wise dining. 

Tomatoes, Parmesan cheese, hardboiled egg, spinach, naan to make sure no juices are left behind, with a glass of lemon suntea.

And freecycling is in full swing 

The drawing board and brayers are about to leave, the others still waiting on claimants.

The art bag I put on earlier now has a taker, too. Sunday is a good freecycling time, so many people free Sundays and why not pick up nice free stuff.

And when my reading became violent, not up for it at this time, I switched to 

A much-read comedy of manners, full of delicious set pieces, nobody except Georgette Heyer, does them better than Pym.

I've organized the upcoming pillow so some stitching will get in soon. Watch this space.

And for a bit of comic relief, since the question of condos and townhouses came up, between AC and me,  I was an early adopter, bought my condo in  the early eighties. In this town refers to the only condo development built apartment-style, townhouses are also condos but have ground to roof ownership.

I was the second owner, only naive city dwellers came here and bought way over local prices, for commuting homes. Second, local,  owners got them at about half the developer's original gouging, I mean pricing. Second mouse gets the cheese

Anyway, I suddenly was hearing from friends wanting to visit! Curiosity,  they asked the weirdest questions.

Q Do you all take meals together? Who cooks? 

A Does everyone in your street take meals together?

Q Do you have to be in residence a minimum time?

A it's my home, I live here.

Q Do you own shares in the whole development?

A it's a condo, not a co-op.

Q does everyone have a master key?

A does everyone on your street have a master key?

Q does the management office administer renting?

A owners do that if they want to rent

Q does the Board own the development?

A each unit owner buys and owns their home. The board directs the manager to contract for exterior service.

Q are all four doors on this landing yours?

A each is a separate front door! I own one place.

As you see, there was great confusion about coops, communes and condos! They're so different, but if the whole concept is new I can see why these hilarious questions came up. I was a safe person to ask, too, so there's that. 

On more serious issues, I think my role right now is to refrain from speculating too much, to stay strong for a democratic victory, and not follow mainstream media, which I've already shut down in my devices. 

Happy day everyone, let's first attend to

our own oxygen mask, whatever form that takes.

Photo AC 

Misfits and a Shilling for Candles

Yesterday's misfits included a wild extravaganza of berries -- out of season raspberries and the usual blueberries. The raspberries are wonderful with good honey and homemade yogurt 

I always marvel at the beauty of brown eggs, and these are so fresh, they rest right at the bottom of the pot when you boil them. I often have a boiled egg and whole grain toast for tea. Or pita bread filled with spinach and egg salad.

And the cranberries are already sauce. I make this very simply, berries, sugar and lemon juice.

And I've been serving it for years in the glass container my sister gave me many years ago, one of the few things she gave me, and treasured accordingly.

While I knit, I've been listening to this old, a bit dated, but still good, Tey. I like all her work, particularly Daughter of Time, which rehabilitated Richard III using actual research, not the wildly inaccurate pop version by Shakespeare.

 

And when I need to read words, because I can't knit endlessly, poor me, I'm doing a weird alternation on Kindle between the Jane Seymour book by Alison Weir and Crampton Hodnet by Barbara Pym. 

The second one is an in-joke, Crampton being part of Pym's family name. And it's one of the best of her novels, with marvelous comic scenes, very movie-like. The Weir, with its social rules and expectations in dress, deportment and food references, has a lot more in common than you might think, with the humor absent. Also no violent death in Pym. At least not physical death. Social death is another issue.

A lot of interesting observations on friendship and falling lately,  thank you all. I learn from you all the time.

Happy day, everyone, I'm off to throw the Thanksgiving red cloth over the incomplete puzzle on the table, then set it up, but simply this year. Tomorrow we celebrate, on Handsome Son's day off.

In Thursday I'll be alone, neighbors mostly away to relatives for the week, but I'll be taking part in Spoutible online high jinks for other people alone on the day.  Or maybe medium jinks, we'll see. It's all good.

New stitching thoughts, Ash and Alabama Chanin

 I was out this morning,redraping the morning glory foliage, now climbing all over after I removed it from the Japanese maple

Then noticed yet again the lovely leaf shape. 

Between watching Ash on YouTube recreate a leaf dress, large leaf shapes hanging from a tunic, jury's out, and  today's MDK newsletter talking about the upcoming Alabama Chanin hand stitched appliqued clothing workshop, often using natural leaf forms, I was ready for this.

So I used the herb garden as a design source, all the leaves so different and purposeful.

This is the spice bush next to the herbs

and zinnia leaves.

I'm going to pick samples of each, create stencils and silhouettes from the shapes, the cut outs becoming the silhouettes. I'll use them for sashiko embroidery,  and direct applique and reverse applique, maybe on new items, maybe applied to clothes I already have.  

You never know when ideas will get around and meet each other and result in cool new ideas. Baby ideas! Some of these new ideas may come to rest on that embroidered robe, with all sorts of embroidery already in place, reviving it, remember that?

So that's what happens when I'm starting one project I'm unsure about, another,  further along,  comes up. I'll finish threading the heddle for the rug, then get into weaving, which might be a fairly quick project.

I haven't been at my knitting group for a while, between hot weather and fridges, and find these days my tolerance for people has decreased. A few minutes is fine, but I get impatient with hearing the same things. 

I abandoned the discussion group at the other library once I realized people simply repeated the same points no matter where the topic started. And that some believed all sorts of unlikely things about politics. I felt disturbed, and thought I'd better preserve my peace of mind, rather than get enmeshed.

Maybe I'll return in September to the knitting folks, no rush. Meanwhile I am occupied. Handsome Son is visiting next Saturday for his birthday, finally. I did caution him that it's tea and dessert, my energy not being equal to more cooking in this weather, which seems fine by him.

Jane Parr, alternating with A Glass of Blessings, by Barbara Pym, is an odd reading program but it's working. I've read the Pym many times, never fails.

I'm st the end of season two of Suits, and wondering if I'm up for more seasons of conflict and high tension. I may need a hiatus!

Happy day, or hiatus, everyone.

 

On substitution and worries

 Yesterday I found my pony palm is busy reproducing, new stems emerging from the parent bulb. 

And the light just striking right, found a spiderweb construction traveling all over the ficus plant. 

Hard to see here, but spinnerets thrown from branch to branch all over. I was sorry to remove it, but I'm not sure it's good for the tree to be stifled by webs.

So much goes on in this household of one which I don't know about. 

And today Krista Tippett came through yet again with thoughtful newsletter including the poetry section. 

Padraig O'Tuama muses on Laura Villarreal's poem,  here's the opening

She goes on to say how she takes care of her worries, mothers them, though they're unconcerned with her caring. And the commentator points out

This is very much along the same lines as William Cooper in Scenes from Married Life where his main character reflects that we tend to get attached to our worries and might be lost without them.

And that in turn reminds me, when I keep seeing subjects for sermons everywhere, of the Rector, Mark Ainger, in Barbara Pym's A Few Green Leaves, thinks sadly that his middle aged parish workers can come up with much better sermon ideas than he can.

All this is just musing as I consider options for the time and sharing I spend on Twitter which now seems to be on life support. I'm pretty sure I can find plenty of interesting thinking without it.

Meanwhile, chop wood carry water, I made a couple of easy quiches yesterday , with some of Gary's harvest plus mushrooms. These will freeze in slices for handy small meals when I don't know what to eat.

Mending 's on the agenda today, 

and I made sure it will happen by finding the necessary bits yesterday and putting them out. That's usually the obstacle to getting small stuff done.

But, best of all, here's a couple of beauties from yesterday's knitting group

See the leather tag, the boutique touch?

And prepare for cute overload here, owner due to arrive in a couple of weeks

That seems more significant than anything I've been thinking about.

Happy day everyone, consider what we'd do if our worries were resolved, hmm.

Liz Adams, four-selvedge saori woven tapestry, public collection of Mercer County, 

The Before Times

 Cleaners here so I'm out from underfoot, at the library after a couple of errands. So great to be able to come inside. This will be wonderful in cold weather.

Before I landed, I took a walk around the square in the sunshine, and could hear every word, all over the square, this man was bellowing into his phone, as he walked back and forth.

He literally never took a break, so whoever was at the other end never got a word in. It was not a recording for a lecture, just chat.  His voice certainly carried.

Here's where I am now.

There are three floors, but the third is the children's department, so it's not as obvious from down here, and the up elevator stops one floor down, security. Coming down it goes all the way.  You can override to get up the last floor, if stairs are a problem. The idea is that you are observed as you come up the last flight, by the children's librarian's desk. So known hinky characters can't just stroll in. 

On the half wall up there are engraved quotations on the glass from favorite books suggested by various involved folks. Mine is the first sentence of a Barbara Pym novel

There's someone studying where it is, so it would be awkward to take a pic of the sentence. You can look it up!

In the gallery there's a photography exhibit about the before times, with a question whether these casual scenes will return.

I've included the few with women featured. It's testosterone heavy. It may be that women avoided pictures, not necessarily the photographer's choice. 

The reason the images are sideways on and a bit distorted is the reflections on the glass, best I could do.

And I wonder if "will those carefree times return?" is the right question. Once the world has changed, there's really no going back. I think there's living in the new normal, while remembering the past.